


Feel Stupid and Contagious

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 90s music references, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Basketball, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Coaches, M/M, Plays on HS AU, School Reunion, Teacher Jared Padalecki, Top Jared Padalecki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: If he’s honest with himself, Jared did have high hopes for running into Jensen Ackles, his epic high school crush, at the reunion. He just didn’t expect all ofthisto happen.





	Feel Stupid and Contagious

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fall 2019 [salt_burn_porn](https://salt-burn-porn.livejournal.com/), prompt “smells like teen spirit” (title from the Nirvana song). BIG THANKS to my [cherie_morte](https://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/) for the beta.
> 
> _Inspired by this Texts From Last Night tweet: (708): yep. Just fucked a 34-year-old on the football field where we both went to high school. That’s a story for the grandkids._ (neither are 34 but the football field and high school are accurate)

Jared stands at center court of his high school gym and surveys all the banners hung from the rafters. City tournament, regional finals, state championships, all from the last four decades to boast a well-fed basketball system. He had his own four-year run in the 90s and now, 25 years later, he’s coaching the new class on the same path. 

Actually, right now, Jared is tugging at his shirt collar and side-eying the gaudy decorations filling the gymnasium. Half-assed streamers and hand-drawn signs are obvious products of the bored assembly club. He can’t blame the kids enlisted at the last minute to help decorate a party they aren’t invited to. The planning committee had wasted a good portion of their already small budget on the fancy appetizers from a new Downtown hot spot and a bartender before considering more appropriate party standards like professional decorations and a DJ.

When the overhead lamps go out and the twinkly multicolored lights shine, the place is transformed from the stale wood-boarded façade of teenage dreams into the Class of ’94: Back for More high school reunion. A disco ball twirls in the middle of the ceiling and flashes of light are thrown across the gym just as Ace of Base’s “The Sign” comes through the gym speakers with staticky feedback, and Jared does all he can to unclench his jaw at the tacky pomp and circumstance of poorly executed festivities.

He takes a few steps and freezes, second guessing everything. His being here, not leaving, offering to work someone else’s reunion, and even why this event is being held at the high school, and then he reminds himself the budget was blown on alcohol and he thinks a drink would be mighty fine right now. Especially when he sees the first trickling of guests approach the table at the entrance to retrieve name tags and drink tickets, and he remembers exactly why he signed up to help.

Sure, he’s getting a small bonus, just like if he were chaperoning the Spring Fling, and he’s allowed to hit the food table and bar (within reason). And he didn’t have much else going on this Saturday night, having just finished a long playoff season that took most of his personal time to the point of exhaustion and causing his latest break up with what was another seemingly promising guy. 

So Jared would like to blame his presence at the Class of 94’s reunion a little on his duty as a school employee, and maybe a lot because he literally had nothing better to do and the pros far outweighed the cons.

He’d made a list to decide if he’d work the reunion, and even if it wasn’t at the top of the list, the largest words on the pro side were _See Jensen Ackles_, and well … if his tender 14-year-old heart hadn’t beat a little faster and louder at the prospect of seeing his freshman year crush, star of the 1994 Varsity Basketball team, Prom King, who made good with a full ride to the University of Texas and then hired help overhaul their basketball team. Jensen was quite the beloved hometown hero.

Not that Jared googled to know exactly what Jensen Ackles is up to these days. He just took a quick peek at the guy’s Facebook profile, where he gleaned all of that from his timeline. And also became aware of just how Jensen has grown up for a full-scale upgrade of 1990s bleach-blonde floppy hair ala James Van Der Beek into a magazine-worthy model with a strong, sharp jaw, just the right amount of scruff to highlight his cheekbones, and broader, proud shoulders that let him stand tall and assured in nearly every photo. When he wasn’t goofing off and making absurd yet unfairly gorgeous faces at the camera, further highlighting those same green-glass eyes and plush mouth Jared had daydreamed about through most of his pubescent years.

Jared knew he was screwed the moment he saw the guest list with **Ackles, Jensen** at the top, and pretty well dead when he dug into the guy’s social media and discovered that Westwood High’s Class of 1994’s _Most Likely to Be Famous_ had lived up to all the hype, and was, in fact, out and proud as an adult, complete with pictures of Jensen in a rainbow tight-curled clown wig from last year’s Pride Parade.

Meanwhile, Jared stuck around town and now teaches Physical Education at the very school he graduated from, is working Jensen’s 25th High School Reunion, and is very much not about to come out of his skin with all the possibilities if he manages to drum up the nerve to say hi to the senior he crushed on for all of the 93-94 school year.

His hands shake at his sides, so he balls them up into fists and marches to the bar. 

A drink, yes. 

He needs several.

*** 

Jared’s on his second whiskey and coke in half an hour when Felicia flags him down and begs for help at registration. He blames the alcohol for happily agreeing, and his sense of responsibility since they share an office in the Phys Ed Department and he’s sure she’ll rag on him come Monday if he doesn’t pull his weight. They get along well enough during work hours, so he doesn’t want to disrupt any of that just because he’s a nervous nelly at this pseudo Prom.

She chatters on at the table as she welcomes one fellow grad after another by name – first _and_ last – without a second glance and Jared offers easy smiles as he hands over the allotted four drink tickets to each person. He doesn’t remember all these faces, not even all that many names, but Felicia is on her game as one of the primary reunion planners. She also spent four years running Westwood’s Dance Committee and now heads all of Westwood’s events, so she’s got a head start on Jared when a new group appears in front of them. 

He grabs a new stack of tickets when Felicia breathes out, “Oh, wow,” with a low whistle.

Jared turns mid-question, his mouth dropping open when he sees them. 

“Well, he sure leveled up.”

“Oh, wow,” he parrots without thought, because The One and Only Jensen Ackles stands near the entrance with his perfectly bowed legs wrapped in buttery denim, a printed collar shirt unbuttoned an extra button or so, and a distressed leather jacket absurdly tight around his arms crossed at his chest. Oh, and his face lights up with laughter as he kicks his head back at whatever his friend just said. 

Felicia presses her index finger on the table like punching a button as she declares, “Upgrade, upgrade, upgrade.”

“There’s stubble.” It’s just a whisper, but he can’t help feeling ashamed when he adds, “He didn’t shave. He purposely came with stubble.”

She flips through her guest list and checks off names with a flourish. “Ahh, yes, Jensen Ackles, MVP point guard. Jason Manns, city all-star forward. And Danneel Harris and Hilarie Burton, cheer captains and Homecoming Court four years in a row.”

Jared gulps as all those credentials sit heavy on his chest. Yes, he remembers each of these Westwood celebrities, having kept a close eye on Jensen that whole year. With all four strolling in to Aerosmith’s “Crazy” for what could be the perfect slow-mo entrance, he’s immediately transported back to 1993 when he first laid eyes on that freckle-burst face and perfectly straight and gleaming toothpaste smile, while Jared was little more than wallpaper in the grand scheme of Jensen’s high school career.

“I want to rub my hands on his stupid stubble,” he whimpers before Felicia elbows him to break him from this stupor.

Still, she concedes with a crooked smile. “Don’t we all?”

Jared shuts up when the group stands in front of them. Jason is the first at the table, but he’s leaning back towards Jensen. Tries to mumble, “It smells just like I remember,” but Jared still hears him and snorts, drawing their attention.

“Like sweat and puberty?” Jensen offers without looking at Jason. He does look at Jared, though, and offers a quick wink, like they’re in on the joke.

Danneel pushes her way between them. “I always thought those were the same smells.” A second later, she’s snatched up her nametag and drink tickets and makes a bee-line for the bar. 

“Someone’s thirsty,” Hilarie says dryly. 

“She’s got the right idea,” Jason says as he puts his nametag in the center of his chest. “Drinks are in order.”

“It’s gonna take more than four to survive this.” Jensen holds his four tickets between his fingers as if they’ll magically multiply under his glare. 

“Can we buy more?” Hilarie asks with a bright, hopeful smile. 

Felicia immediately runs down the drink ticket rules and suggests that they get a whole gang together for an after party at Tim-O’s down the block, where a whole lot of bad fake IDs were accepted, and most seniors and college co-eds spent their weekends. She even winks. “Like the good ol’ days, you know?” 

Jensen gestures the tickets around, then looks at Jared, who most certainly is not all moon-eyed over the fretful twist of Jensen’s brows when he was staring down the tickets. His eyebrow rises in an artful arch and he smirks. “Any chance you drop a couple that I just happen to pick up?”

Jared sits up straight in his chair, doing his best to proudly extend his shoulders. They’re even wider than Jensen’s nowadays and so what if he wants the guy to notice? His shoulders are one of his best assets, so say some of the guys he meets online. He ignores the fact that his ass is probably even higher on the list and it’s currently stuck in this seat, hidden behind a cheap tablecloth. 

He can’t answer, doesn’t get to speak up on this occasion of breathing the same air as The Jensen Ackles for the first time in nearly three decades, and he’s scowling at Felicia when she shoos Jensen off to have a good time. 

She turns to Jared with a goofy grin. “Did you see his shirt though? It has all these cute little white daggers all over it!”

“Yeah, I’d love to stab myself with one right now.”

“Oh, don’t be such a grump.” She frowns for the quick moment to admonish him before getting her perky smile back into place to welcome the next group, ragging on him through her teeth. “We get a quick glimpse into the life of the high school famous, then come Monday, we return to our regularly scheduled programming of smelly gym socks and flooded showers.”

He looks across the gym to where Jensen and company are cashing in their first round of drink tickets and he thinks about how even when Jensen still lives and works in Austin, and they both still circle the local basketball circuit, they’re worlds apart with Jensen on the big stage of UT and Jared teaching at their high school. 

Jensen is once again in the spotlight of the Class of 1994, with folks closing in around him and his friends to relive their youth, and Jared is stuck working the door without a single person recognizing him or the scrawl of his name on the sticker at his chest. 

Downing the rest of his drink, he announces he’ll be right back, disappearing to a far corner to wallow on his own. 

*** 

It feels rather dark to have Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” blare through the gym, but Jared finds himself comforted by the sound of his favorite music. He sips on what is his third whiskey-coke and mumbles through the drawn-out syllables of the chorus, losing himself for a few wistful moments where he can pretend he’s just at a club for a night out and not reliving his high school angst.

“Hey,” comes from Jared’s right and when he turns to look, there’s Jensen Ackles with a wry smile. Like he’s sorry for intruding on Jared’s private karaoke session. 

Jared clears his throat as he faces him and ends up sloshing half his drink onto Jensen’s jacket. 

God, he’s embarrassing himself like the gangly freshman he’d left behind.

Or thought he did.

“Holy shit,” Jared blurts out. 

“It’s okay,” Jensen says quietly. His eyes are closed and he’s got a hand up to dismiss it, but Jared still feels himself shirking back a foot or two so he doesn’t do that again. When Jensen opens his eyes, he’s smiling a little. “It’s a good song. I shouldn’t have interrupted it.”

Jared tucks hair behind his ear and nods, fighting to maintain eye contact with Jensen while pretending he’s not dying to look right into those crystal green eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

“A little dark for a reunion, though.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jared repeats, this time chuckling along with Jensen. 

“So this might be kind of weird, but I remember seeing you earlier and I was wondering if you’re – ”

Jared grins in an instant, a flare of excitement that Jensen _does_ know. “From basketball, yeah.” He points at his name tag. “Jared Padalecki.”

Jensen blinks a few times and looks back towards the makeshift dance floor like he needs help, and Jared backpedals immediately.

“Or not. I mean. I don’t know.”

There’s a bit of pursed lips as Jensen continues to be confused. “You don’t know if that’s who you are?”

Jared takes a deep breath to settle himself, also reminds himself that he is a 39-year-old professional, a celebrated educator in one of the most prestigious high schools in the greater Austin area, and he does not need to let the beautiful wiles of Jensen Ackles get to him. Again. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared says firmly. “What was your question?”

“If you were the chaperone from registration?”

He bites the inside of his mouth as he relives a faraway moment just before the entire basketball team boarded the bus for the Regional Championships and Jensen had stopped a wiry freshman before he got on, asking who he was and why he was trying to join them. 

Back then, Jensen didn’t realize that Jared was a forward on the freshman team. And even if he spent most of the season on the bench (fumbling in gangly limbs that hadn’t hit a growth spurt until that next summer), he had been invited to ride with the team as part of the basketball program. 

Also, _chaperone_ somehow plunges him into a dark pit of embarrassment. As if he’s just like those teachers who told them to cool it with slow, dirty dancing and watched the punch bowl to be sure no one spiked it.

Granted, he does do all those things at the regular school dances with actual teenagers under his charge. Here, he’d hoped to be seen as an equal among the Class of 94 elite.

“I was just thinking if you _did_ actually have some leftover drink tickets …” Jensen drifts off with wide, hopeful eyes and a twist to those oh-so-pink lips that do cruel things to Jared’s insides.

“Oh.” Jared glances down at his drink, frowning when he realizes the glass is less than half full. Probably because the rest of it is on Jensen’s jacket, which he now removes.

Jensen shakes the last drops off the leather before ringing it over a forearm and crossing his impressively smooth yet deceptively ripped arms over each other. The sleeves are so short on this shirt, the biceps are bulging.

“_Oh_,” Jared repeats as he stares at the muscles. They’re _obscene_ this close.

“What? Is there more here?” Jensen checks his arms, then seems to realize what distracted Jared, watching Jared try to clear himself of the brief daydream of those arms wrapped around his neck while Jensen rides his dic– 

“Hey, Jackles!” Jason calls out as he joins them, bumping shoulders with Jensen. “Did you find the chaperone with the tickets yet?”

Jensen gives Jason a tense look before slowly pointing one finger from the fist pressed into his elbow at Jared. 

“Oh, hey.” Jason has the good manners to smile easily with a fairly dopey wave. 

Jared recalls Jason being one of the more down to earth seniors on the team. Perhaps aloof to those around him, but still affable to even a lowly freshman like … 

“Jared?” Jason’s eyes bulge as he takes in all of Jared’s height. “Holy shit, Padalecki. You got _tall_, kid. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Heard you did real good for yourself. State MVP just two years after us? And you guys just finished third this season, right?”

Through Jason’s questions, Jared watches Jensen to spy his reaction, which is a slow scan of Jared from head to toe, and back up again, eyes getting wider the longer he looks.

“Dude,” Jason nudges Jensen’s shoulder again and ventures to joke, “It’s Little Lecki, remember? That freshman who was all skin and bones.”

Jared drops his head at the reminder of the nickname that made its rounds through the locker room before he started to fill out thanks to growth spurts and the weight room.

“But now you’re …” Jason goes on, “What is it the kids say these days? _Glow up?_

Jensen remains silent, Jared keeps glancing between the two guys in front of him, and Jason chuckles through his rambling. Maybe Jason’s already been through his four drink tickets, because he seems to think it’s amazing to run into Jared here, at their old high school, at _their reunion_, and as a _chaperone_.

“I’m not a chaperone,” Jared nearly shouts over Coolio’s “Fantastic Voyage.” Luckily most of the guests are singing along to _just slide, glide, slippity-slide_, so he’s only made himself a fool to Jason and Jensen. 

Jensen opens and closes his mouth a few times with his hands coming out to motion towards Jared, but Jared quickly puts it to rest because his hopes for the evening have become a charade for all of them.

“Yeah, I teach here, and I coach the basketball team, and I’m working the reunion tonight because Felicia asked and I thought it would be kind of fun to revisit old memories, but I’m realizing that actually sucks for me, and no I don’t have any extra drink tickets because Felicia will kill me if anyone over-drinks onher watch.”

He drops a pathetic _sorry_ then heads to the bar for another drink, continuing his run of bad luck when he hears there’s no more whiskey. After all the trip ups of decorations, the DJ, and now this, Jared second guesses just how good Felicia is at event planning.

The bartender offers a gin and juice and Jared immediately regrets having asked what was left. 

“Sipping on gin and juice,” Chad Michael Murray wails in his ear. “Laaaaaaaaaaaaaid back.”

Jared rolls his eyes as he realizes he was never bound to be lucky enough to avoid the guy who hazed him onto the basketball team by making him wear a cheerleading skirt for a week, with pink panties, then made it his mission to flip the skirt every time he passed Jared in the halls. 

“With my mind on my money and my money on my mind.” 

He glares at Chad before pointing out, “Aren’t you supposed to be busy playing music tonight?”

Chad tips his new drink at Jared. “I’mma play some Snoop Dog tonight. Just for our Lovely Lady Lecki.”

Then he’s gone as quickly as he’s made his mark, and Jared shuts his eyes for a few calming breaths. He’s ready to bolt, but Felicia texts him with the stark reminder _don’t forget I need help cleaning up after! :D_

This night will never end.

*** 

With his fourth drink, Jared makes a stop at the _In Memoriam_ tribute. A delicate cream sheet covers what he knows is typically a lunch table, and framed portraits are set around an announcement that declares _the Class of 94 Reunion Committee fondly remembers those who we lost over the years._

Jared picks up one of the frames and frowns as he takes in the bald head of Mike Rosenbaum. 

“I’m sorry.” Jensen’s at his side again. This time, he seems rightfully chagrined about their interactions thus far with his hands in his pockets and shoulders dropping even as he shrugs towards Jared. “About, you know ...”

He shakes it off, mostly to save himself further misery. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for having that kind of outburst.”

A moment slips by before Jensen nods. “Right, yeah. That.”

“What …” Jared wonders how many more times he can embarrass himself tonight. Next time Felicia asks anything of him, even just holding a door when her arms are full of tennis rackets, the answer will be the biggest N-O he can fashion. “What did you mean?”

Jensen points at the frame in Jared’s hand and frowns again. “I’m guessing he was a friend of yours?”

“Him? Oh God, no.” Jared immediately puts the frame down as he thinks of Rosey stationed at the corner seat of Tim-O’s and monopolizing the jukebox with Jethro Tull. “I mean, he’s not _that_ bad of a guy, but …”

“But it’s still sad when someone dies.”

Jared snorts and feels a bit of tension clear because now it’s Jensen who’s making an idiot of himself. “But I saw him last week at Whole Foods. He’s trying an all raw diet and was trying to get me to buy into some kind of scheme selling CBD products.” A second later and Jared adds, “He’s not dead. He just couldn’t come tonight.”

Jensen’s mouth drops open so far, Jared has to laugh at him, even pushes at Jensen’s arm then tugs him back upright when he realizes he’d shoved too hard. 

“I don’t know why the reunion committee thinks he’s dead.”

“Wow, okay. Well, I’m glad to hear not dead.”

“Or maybe he’s just dead to Felicia for bailing on DJing tonight.”

Jensen looks over to the stage. “Who’s DJing then?”

Jared rolls his eyes when “Gin and Juice” starts up to a burst of cackling over the microphone like a madman pulled the ultimate trick, even as all the swear words are bleeped out. School function and all that. “It’s Chad.”

“Murray?” Jensen laughs and Jared finds himself smiling along with him, all previous worries erased. “I figured that guy would definitely be dead by now.”

“Technically was,” Jared points out. “Pissed on an electrical fence and his heart actually stopped.”

Jensen sighs, but he’s smiling quite beautifully. Right at Jared. “God, these people. Did you hear that Katie Cassidy tried to launch a skin care line for dogs?”

Jared nods. “I most definitely did hear that.”

Suddenly, Jensen declares, “I think I need another drink to keep hearing these stories.”

Jared pulls a few tickets from his pocket and hands them over. 

“But you …”

He shrugs. “I got a bunch for working tonight. So technically, I didn’t have any extra for the guests.”

Shaking his head, Jensen takes a step back. “I’m not taking your tickets.”

Jared glances back at the bar, which is fairly empty. Most folks must have already burned through their four drinks or found out the liquor’s running low. Still, Jared decides to take a chance. “Then I guess we can say you owe me one.”

Jensen’s ready to argue when something soft passes over his face and he smirks. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“I guess we can say that.”

It’s a throwaway; Jared has no intention of ever making Jensen pay. He figures it’s enough that they’re talking and Jared is no longer making a fool of himself, so the pleasure is all his.

*** 

For the next hour, Jared hovers on the edge of Jensen and a new group of guests catching up on all their current doings. The few times he makes move to leave, Jensen glances over like he’s keeping tabs on him, offering a smile or even a wink, and silently encourages Jared to stick around. 

And along the way, someone – Chad probably – unearths a private collection of liquor that keeps the guests liberated, and four tall stacks of pizza from Rhodes House Grill show up to feed the inebriated. 

The atmosphere is considerably more chill. Jared, too, thanks to the extra provisions and he’s not so ashamed to finally slide away from the party lights to lean against the bleachers folded up against one wall for a moment to himself. 

Stone Temple Pilots’ “Big Empty” starts up and Jared feels the opening guitar line sink into his bones, set his nerves on fire, especially when Jensen joins in leaning back with him and their shoulders brush as he settles in. 

Jensen turns toward Jared and sings low and rough, eyes right on Jared when he glances over. “Smoke a cigarette and lie some more. These conversations kill.”

“Driving faster in my car,” Jared finishes with him and his stomach does a full-on somersault, dropping out somewhere around his ankles when Jensen licks his lower lip. 

“I always liked that song.”

Jared nods and bites his lip as he considers if he should say the next words aloud. The way Jensen is watching him from the corner of his eye decides for him. “I always thought that opening was ...”

“Was what?”

“Sexy as hell,” he chuckles. “Just the way it slides and dips.”

Jensen takes a deep breath and keeps the eye contact, assessing Jared. “You ain’t wrong.”

Scott Weiland sings _Time to take her home, Her dizzy head is conscience laden_ and Jared thinks maybe he’s all dizzy headed looking too far into all this. Into how Jensen sets his head back to the bleachers then rolls it to stare right at Jared, smacking his lips together so they shine even in these low lights. 

“I could use a cigarette,” Jensen announces.

“Yeah, me, too.” Autopilot has taken over now because Jared hasn’t had once since grad school, but he’s not about to ignore the invitation when Jensen nods towards the side exit. 

“So, what if I owed you two drinks?” 

Jared shakes his head at the change in subject, especially when tickets are no longer an issue. 

Jensen leans in and lowers his voice to clarify, “You wanna grab us another drink and meet me outside?”

_Do I_, Jared screams to himself as he can feel the heat of Jensen’s arm pressed to his own. He clears his throat and offers a fairly steady, “Yeah, sure,” and heads across the gym before either of them change their minds.

He can’t move quick enough to get two new glasses then push through the heavy metal doors to the fresh summer night. Jensen grabs his drink and then heads around the building with a quick wave for Jared to follow. The walkway curls around the outside of the gym and leads right to the fenced-in track that rings around the football field, and Jensen shows no signs of stopping as he keeps marching up the grass. 

Jared doesn’t fumble so much as drag his feet as he goes, a little bewildered they’re out here on the field, alone, yet fully illuminated with the lights bright across the grass and the stands. 

“Where we going?” As soon as he’s asked, he wants to yank the words right back, because he feels, and sounds, like that foolish 14-year-old who would second-guess and worry over every step he took inside these high school halls. Just like back then, he’s still willing to trail Jensen Ackles’ shadow.

Fulfilling that Senior Prom King bravado, Jensen spins to walk backwards as he drinks then winks. “We’re going to the end zone.”

He shakes his head even as he finds himself walking faster to see all of Jensen’s bright smile close up. “Why?”

“’Cause that’s where you score.”

“Oh, God,” Jared whines, even when he’s now laughing at Jensen. “You did not.”

There’s a brief hiccup in Jensen’s bravado as he slows down and shrugs, even gives Jared a straight look that says he means his words. “We don’t have to. I wasn’t trying to assume. Maybe just hoping …”

Jared laughs, knows he’s going pink as he nears Jensen and admits, “I’m not gonna say no to The Jensen Ackles.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Kinda think I do. You’re the big hero around these parts.”

Jensen tosses his jacket to the ground, then tugs at the middle of Jared’s shirt. Whispers, “I’m really not,” and brings Jared down to kiss. 

For most of his high school years, Jared daydreamed (and wet-dreamed) about Jensen Ackles and their first kiss. Back then, Jared surely would’ve fumbled through it, maybe Jensen would, too. Both closeted teens in the middle of Texas, nervous and new to every touch and taste. Jared certainly was scared as hell when he kissed his first guy and he nearly came right in his pants with the briefest contact.

Now, they’re both adults and they’ve both had their practice, so Jared is more than ecstatic that the kiss far exceeds any expectations from puberty. Jensen licks right inside Jared and his lips are wet and wide around Jared’s, pulling back here and there before diving right back in. Their drinks are lost to the grass as Jensen threads a hand into Jared’s hair and the other presses around Jared’s hip to keep him close, and Jared quickly gets on board, getting his hands on Jensen and taking over the kiss to show what he can do. 

Jensen’s hand trails along Jared’s hip to his lower back, then even lower to grab his ass and pull him in as the kiss stretches on longer, gets deeper. Jared goes wild at the tight grip of Jensen’s fingers, so he yanks at the end of Jensen’s shirt to get his hands on hot, bare skin. There’s little room between the tight-fit cotton, but Jared wrenches his hands up so his fingers glide along the graceful curve of Jensen’s back. Immediately, Jensen arches against Jared and their bodies are close enough that Jared can feel Jensen’s dick through their pants, feels the hard-on push against his hip. 

Jared is pretty sure they can’t continue like this, at least not without getting to the really good shit. There’s no suave way to do it, so he just breaks away from the kiss to mouth along Jensen’s neck, and mumbles, “Should we get down?”

Jensen laughs, voice a little high when Jared bites around his ear lobe. “Yeah, definitely. Definitely gonna get down.”

They break apart long enough to move to the grass, shirts and jeans opening in between more frantic kissing and roaming hands. Jared runs his hand over Jensen’s chest and his breath stops at the shredded noise Jensen makes when fingers drag over his nipple, so Jared does it again and again until Jensen’s whining and pushing Jared away.

“Oh God, okay,” Jensen pants, “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that.”

Jared grins as he dips in close to mouth at the side of Jensen’s lips. “I kinda like that idea.”

“I also kinda like the idea of you fucking me.”

Now Jared’s the one whining, shoving his hand down his open fly to squeeze around his dick. The image of Jensen all laid out for him, wanting, begging, makes him leak and there’s no way he’s about end this too soon …

When Jensen fishes through his wallet for a condom and small packet of lube, Jared does stop. 

Jared clears his throat when his stomach turns for a completely different reason. Like Jensen showed up to his high school reunion just to hook up with any willing body, and here Jared is … a half-naked body that’s willing. “That’s convenient.”

Jensen stares at him, suddenly worried they’ve come to a halt. 

“Were you planning all along?” comes out a bit more haughty than Jared had meant, but it’s out there so he otherwise tries to keep his cool.

“I’m just … kind of always prepared?” he explains with a stilted shrug. “Single guy and all that.” When Jared remains frozen, sorting it all out, Jensen lifts up to steady himself on a hand behind him, foreheads touching as he murmurs. “I didn’t know you’d be here, but I sure am glad you are.”

Jared nudges his nose along Jensen’s, breaths the same air from his lips. Finally admits, “I knew you would be.”

Jensen leaves a soft kiss on Jared’s mouth. “You did, huh?”

He nods, shuts his eyes against the confession, but keeps his lips close to Jensen’s. “May have been why I signed up to work tonight.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Kinda always had a thing for you,” Jared admits, figuring he’s this deep into it, and Jensen seems to be rather into it. “You being the greatest guy in school and all that.”

“I really wasn’t.” Jensen stalls for a moment before twisting his fingers in Jared’s hair and tipping his lips back up to Jared’s. “But tell me more about how you knew I’d be here.”

He licks his lips and blinks, sure this is a fever dream, because it is so far beyond even Jared’s greatest dreams of Jensen. “I was just planning to say hi, how you been.”

“And?”

“And maybe try to get your number.”

Jensen’s grin presses into Jared’s lips and he breaks through with his tongue thick against Jared’s. “Then it’s a good thing we found each other.”

When the kiss kicks off again and Jared is distracted by Jensen reeling him back in, Jared tells himself it’s a _mighty good thing_ and he’s over whatever little hiccup that was.

They move quickly to get Jensen’s pants and underwear down one leg, joking together that for all the kicks of doing _this_ out here, they should maintain some semblance of dress in case they have to cut and run without warning. The switch over to laughter and slick-lipped smiles makes Jared warm down to his toes and he’s giddy when he leans in to kiss Jensen while he rubs lube-slick fingers at Jensen’s hole. 

Jensen arches his back and Jared presses one hand to the grass beside Jensen’s face and the other harder down below. When Jared pushes the tip of his finger in, Jensen’s mouth opens wide with a long breath, and Jared leans in to kiss at the dip of Jensen’s neck as he pushes it further in and tucks it against his walls. 

Jared grins against Jensen’s throat when the guy’s writhing and moaning on that one finger, as Jared works it deep, sliding in and out, over and over again because there’s nothing greater than Jensen’s pretty, breathy begging. His second finger rings around the hole with Jensen spreading his legs wider, and when Jensen drags his hand into Jared’s hair and tugs, Jared gets a little more lube and pushes two fingers into him, thrusting up and in real fast.

“Oh, fuck,” Jensen groans, “And that’s just your fingers.”

Kissing up to his ear, Jared shoves his two fingers in deeper, teases teeth along the shell of Jensen’s ear. Jensen’s wanton noises and the way he trembles to every one of Jared’s touches empowers Jared to run his mouth, emboldens him to take what we wants. “And just two fingers. You need more?” Then he corrects, his voice low and dirty, “You _want_ more?”

“Fuck, Jared.” More groans and Jensen pulls Jared up to kiss. There’s little finesse to his tongue when Jared continues fucking his fingers in, spreading them wide to stretch Jensen out, riding the slide of Jensen’s body.

The vision of Jensen’s lips bitten red and his pupils blown wide put a halt on further foreplay and Jared decides two fingers is enough. Maybe he’ll get another chance to take Jensen apart with each of his fingers, maybe even his mouth. 

Then Jensen moans, “I want whatever you got,” and Jared’s skin flares with the immediate need to fuck Jensen right into this end zone.

Hell, this could be his one and only chance with Jensen. Realistically, it’s far more than Jared could have hoped for, and he’d rather not throw away his shot. He gets the condom in place, slicks himself up, and starts the torturous process of pushing into Jensen, slow enough to let the guy adjust, and quick enough to make them both moan in loud pleasure. Inch by inch, Jared drops lower to Jensen until he’s seated tight and he all but covers Jensen. 

There’s a long pause as they adjust, Jared doing all he can to not bust right now. Also, to be a fair gentleman and wait until Jensen gives the okay.

It takes a few more moments until Jensen says, “Jesus fuck, you definitely _got big_.”

Jared drops his head to Jensen’s shoulder, laughing and shaking with the effort to hold still. Then Jensen’s hand slowly slides across the back of Jared’s head and squeezes, so Jared pitches his hips just so, testing, tempting. And when Jensen digs nails into Jared’s scalp, he pulls back and pushes right in to the blessed whine of Jensen’s withered voice. 

He starts an easy rhythm with Jensen arching up to meet each stride. Messy kisses and dirty panting mix together to the point that Jared isn’t sure he’s not being absurdly loud along with Jensen. Though he is pretty sure he doesn’t care because Jensen is hanging on around Jared’s neck, just like he’d envisioned when he first saw these biceps, and tucking his legs around Jared to get them really going. 

Jared’s hips snap, shoving whimpers right out of Jensen, and soon enough, Jared is the one whining. His orgasm is rushing up on him when he just wants to live right here, buried deep inside _Jensen Ackles_, the wet dream of his teenage years, and perhaps a new star of Jared’s adult jerk off sessions. 

Thankfully, Jensen seems to be getting close, too, wrapping his hand around his own dick and jerking himself off with a stream of expletives grunted under his breath, but music to Jared’s ears when Jensen finally breaks with a loud, eager whimper. 

Jared gets fast for the final minutes, ringing his arms beneath Jensen and holding him tight in place as he fucks quick and dirty to the goal line. He shakes through it, hips stuttering, and mouth wet and loud against Jensen’s throat before he sinks into a second or two of blissful light. 

*** 

They get their clothes back in order and fall down on the grass again, laid out on their backs, side by side. 

They finally have that cigarette, passing it back and forth as they listen to the voices of people heading out and cars starting up and leaving the parking lot. Someone’s blaring an old Foo Fighters song through open windows and Jared softly sings along, all awash in nostalgia. 

Jensen joins him at _There goes my hero, He's ordinary,_ and turns his head to watch Jared, who stares right back. “You know …” He narrows his eyes for a moment, then offers Jared a small smile. “I really wasn’t that big of a deal. Back then. I was ordinary.”

“You were not ordinary,” he insists with a haughty laugh. “You were _The_ Jensen Ackles. To everyone, the whole school. Not just me.”

“Was not.”

Jared quickly rattles off Jensen’s high school resume: “Most likely to be Rich and Famous. Prom King. All State Basketball. Everyone loved you and they still do. I mean, look at you now.”

“Look at _you_ now.” Jensen smirks and makes a show of looking up and down Jared’s body. “Little Lecki ain’t so little anymore.”

Jared rolls his eyes and bats at Jensen’s stomach. “I hate that name.”

“Still ain’t little these days. Trust me,” Jensen stresses with a raised eyebrow.

They laugh, but Jensen continues. “And you were a star in your own time. Starting varsity your sophomore year. Three-time City MVP.”

Now Jared narrows his eyes, squirms a little as he considers, “You do remember me.”

Jensen nods and keeps looking right at Jared, eyes focused on his to get his point across. “Yeah. Once Jason said it, it clicked. Didn’t realize you were into me or whatever, but I remember you. On the team buses. The locker room.”

Jared lifts an eyebrow. “The locker room, huh?” He even adds on a wink.

Jensen turns away to face the sky, though he’s barely hiding a smile. “Oh, dude, come on.”

“_Dude_, what?” Jared taunts.

“Okay, yeah,” Jensen exclaims, laughing at himself, or maybe the absurdity of the situation. “I was a dumb kid trying to figure out if I was gay and saw a lot of guys in the locker room.”

“And?”

“And, what?” Jensen playfully argues as he faces Jared again. “You want me to say I didn’t think of you like that and sound like a dick? Or say I was into you and never did anything about it?”

“Well …” Jared makes a face, something confused morphing into rather impressed. “We kinda just did something about it.”

Jensen laughs, smacks Jared, and mumbles something about being an idiot. 

Their conversation doesn’t get any further thanks to Jensen’s phone ringing with Jason yelling from the other end, _where the fuck did you escape to?_ and _You’re our ride, you jackass._

Jared fiddles with the last few buttons on his shirt and prepares for the end to one hell of a reunion. He’s disappointed, sure, but the night turned out far better than anticipated and he knows it has to end sometime. He even opens his mouth to offer some foolish sort of thanks, but Jensen rolls over to his stomach and hovers close. 

“What’s your number?”

He blinks, repeatedly, and replays so many moments 25 years ago when he had crossed fingers and wished to everything in the Heavens that Jensen would ask him that very question. 

“Unless you don’t want to …”

A quick laugh breaks from Jared’s chest and Jensen frowns, clearly misreading Jared’s reaction. “Sorry, it’s just nice to see you be not so cool once in a while.”

“I’m telling you …” Jensen sucks a kiss just beneath Jared’s chin then sings along to the song that kick-started their whole talk, “_I’m ordinary_.”

“You really aren’t.” Jared bites into a smile threatening to split his face wide open. “But yeah, I absolutely want to give you my number.”

There are no promises for when he’ll call, or platitudes about how they had this amazing moment in time they’ll never forget, but Jared’s going to file away the memory of Jensen biting his lower lip with his eyes wide and focused intently on Jared typing his number into Jensen’s phone. And the feel of Jensen’s mouth on his, one last kiss before Jensen heads back to his friends. And the image of Jensen walking across the football field slower than before, legs a little stiff with every step.

Jared rises to his elbows and grins, watching Jensen saunter back to towards the gym, the moonlight casting a rather illegal shadow over those broad shoulders and curved legs. The visual is made better – or possibly worse for Jared’s self-restraint to not leap up like a beckoned dog – when Jensen glances over his shoulder with a crooked smile and easy wave goodnight. 

“There goes my hero,” Jared hums to himself with a growing smile. “Watch him as he goes.”


End file.
